The Hadley Institute for Pain and Reprimand: Catboy
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: Gloss Higgs brings a strange captive to the Institute claiming he wants him punished for cheating on him. He's willing to pay a lot of money and Cato doesn't turn the offer down. This boy is different however, with a smart mouth and incredible feline abilities. His name wasn't a name. It was a purr in itself. Who is this creature and why did Gloss really dump him? Neko!Peeta


_**A/N: So guys, this is the first book in a series I'm going to be working on over the summer this year. The first book (I say book, it's more like a one shot but book sounds more professional) is about how Cato meets his partner in crime Peeta, a neko boy. **_

_**Even though the plot of this seems quite sadistic, it won't be too graphic in the aspects of torture or anything so don't worry.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

**Book One: The Catboy**

The easiest thing to do is to not ask questions. Cato learned this long ago.

To get the money you want, it's best just to get on with it. Ask questions, you risk getting involved. And getting involved may interfere with the work. The work that pays well, so well that most who are involved don't have to lift a finger for the rest of their lives. As long as they make it in for their shifts, that is.

_**THE HADLEY INSTITUTE OF PAIN AND REPRIMAND.**_

The Institute was founded by Cato's great-great grandfather, Wyatt Hadley, back in the early 1800s. It began with a simple request made by an angry husband. The husband, a man called Justin, and Wyatt-who had been a blacksmith at the time-were close friends, who basically told each other everything. Justin's wife had began to become too big for her boots, acting like a harlet and going out every night with her friends, leaving him alone to care for their baby. He wanted to think of a way to punish her, to put her in her place, but had to do it in a way that would stick with her for the rest of her life.

So he paid Wyatt 100 dollars to do it for him.

After spanking Justin's wife for him, Wyatt saw an opportunity for better pay than his blacksmith job and leaped at it. He renevated an abandoned building, made it look like a home business, before telling only a select few about the building's true intentions. He couldn't have everyone on his doorstep, then it wouldn't be nearly as fun. The mystery was what made it better.

And that was how the Hadley Institute of Pain and Reprimand was erected. The business was passed down from generation to generation, along with the job of head punisher. As time grew on and the world modernized, it wasn't only women that got taken to the Institute. Wives started bringing husbands, friends bringing ex-friends, broken partners bringing exes, all willing to pay good money to have the people they hated suffer. Because that's what happened. It wasn't about punishment anymore, it was about hurting the people they loathed.

Cato knew that there was a chance he'd be given the building when he was sixteen, when his mother took ill. He was no fool, he knew what went on in the Institute, and he honestly didn't care too much. His life had been built up on the genius of the Institute and he knew that he wouldn't have lived the comfortable and worry-free life he had if it hadn't been for the Institute.

On some level, he couldn't wait to take over it.

So his mother died and, as predicted, he was given the Institute on his seventeenth birthday.

Cato had now been running it for seven years. Rumours sometimes flew around that he was the best owner since Wyatt himself but he tended to ignore the whispers of the wiled. Sure, he had come up with a lot of the different punishments that now ran-he strongly believed in variety-but he didn't believe that anyone was going to get back to the level of his great-great grandfather.

Really, the Hadley's were known for being sadistic anyway. It was like a trait that got passed down over the years to poison every single descendant of Wyatt Hadley. Not that it mattered to them, no, to them it was just a way of life. How they earned their bread, how they managed to keep themselves going for so long without having ever had to apply for a job.

But still, it was better to not ask questions. Especially about why cilents wanted a particular person to suffer. It was better to just get on with it.

"Some guy called Gloss brought in a brought in a diminished."

Cato was just through the door when Finnick had spoken up. He hadn't even got a chance to hang his jacket up. The interior of the Institute was actually quite medicore. It looked like the reception of a highway B&amp;B. Red carpets, cream walls, wooden receptionist desk, it was so plain it was sickening. It was a percaution, just in case an outsider wandered in, someone who didn't know about the Institute. It happened often enough, despite the tight security system.

Diminished was what the Hadleys had always called the people cilents brought in. It was better to call them that over their real names. Because names were too familiar, too close to home.

"Really? Had he a booking?" Cato couldn't remember Gloss having booked anyone . . .

"Well, I say he brought in, he really just dumped them on us. Said if we kept them here until further notice then he'd pay us a £10,000 a week," Finnick explained.

Cato raised his eyebrows. "£10,000? I wonder what they did to him," he wondered out loud. "Did Gloss say?"

"They cheated on him, I think," Finnick answered. The Odairs were family friends, having worked closely with them in the Institute for eighty five years now. Finnick came to work as the receptionist at the same time Cato had been given the Institute in his mother's will.

It seemed a bit harsh, to keep them for weeks, but it was Gloss' choice. And Gloss was famous for his dramatic attitude. "It always comes down to the people who can't keep their legs closed, doesn't it? What did you do with them?"

Finnick shrugged. He pushed the register book towards Cato as he approached the desk, tossing him a pen as well. Cato caught it and quickly signed in. He didn't normally leave the Institute but instead stayed in one of the top floor rooms. But Clove had recently lost her cousin in a car accident and was having a hard time dealing with it, so he had went to visit her, which had lead to him staying over for the night.

"Stuck them in the Clacified Chamber until you got here," answered Finnick.

Cato nodded. "How long?"

"Three hours now."

"Right."

The Clacified Chamber was a small basement below the Institute. It wasn't part of the original schematics of the building but was installed in the 1920s by Emily Hadley. The room was the size of a cubby hole, even smaller really. It was solid concrete all the way around and the only way to get in is through an elevator shaft that runs through and opens up a trapdoor in the celiling.

The whole idea is to keep the diminished in the small, enclosed area. They sit upright in a seat, with their hands bound to a hook infront of them, so they are forced to sit with their back bent. Even if they weren't tied up, they'd still have to sit this way as the Chamber is so small that no one can fit in it standing up.

Cato went there after signing in. Since the Chamber was so small, two people couldn't be in it at the same time so once the technological leap occured, cameras were installed in the chamber and there was a separate room on the last floor before the Clacified were you could moniter what was going on. It used to be that if the diminished went mad in there, then they went mad, and no one would know because no one could moniter them.

Getting them tied to the hooks was always a song and dance. It was always better to drug the diminished before they even start to attempt anything because trying to bind an unconscious person in a tiny space is one thing but trying to bind a struggling, protesting person into a tiny space is another thing completely.

So it works that either Cato or Finnick hold their breath and manage to squeeze into the space with the diminished long enough to tie their wrists to hooks before quickly clawing their way out again. Cato had some level of respect for some of the diminished. He couldn't even handle two minutes in the Clacified Chamber, let alone hours.

On the main telveision in the Clacified Control Room, Cato could see the diminished Gloss brought in. They sat in the usual uncomfortable position, head wedged between the knees and hands pulled out in front of them and chained to the floor. Their body trembled, trying to hold the position with all their strength, and a thin layer of sweat was coating their skin.

They lifted their head and Cato suddenly felt frozen to the spot. The diminished was gorgeous. Weary blue eyes searched the concrete walls, a small spark still somehow alight in them. Normally after three hours in the chamber they'd be begging for mercy. Mercy Cato could only give if the cilent said he could. The boy's face was sharp and angular, the skin pale and looked like it was made up of ceramic.

Cato watched curiously as the diminished boy lifted his foot and pressed it against the hook where his hands were chained, pushing against it with all his strength. Trying to break the chains. Cute. But impossible. The boy was clearly frustrated, sweat breaking out across his brow as he put all his strength into his escape plan.

Cato found himself pressing his finger onto the intercom button and saying, "I wouldn't bother, those are Palladium chains. They won't break."

The diminished's head snapped up and he smacked it off the top of the concrete ceiling. Cato winced. _"Who are you?"_ they asked.

"Cato Hadley. Don't tell me your name, it's not needed. All you need to know is that you've been admitted to the Hadley Institute of Pain and Reprimand by Gloss Higgs. Your . . . ex . . . I'm guessing?"

_"Is this one of his sick jokes?"_

"I wouldn't say a joke. The Institute is a building of punishment and Gloss believes that you need to be punished," explained Cato. Urgh, the explaining was the least fun but most necessary part of the whole punishment process. "I'm guessing you know why you've been admitted here?"

_"I have a fair idea,"_ the diminished answered. Cato had an idea that he would. Although, a part of him couldn't blame whoever it was that wanted to cheat with that boy. He truly was a sight to be seen._ "Gloss always was a sadistic cunt."_

"I'd watch that dirty mouth of yours," Cato said.

_"Or what? You're going to punish me? What else could you possibly do?"_

"Trust me kid, you've no idea."

The blue eyes finally landed on the camera and Cato felt himself freeze up again. They were so deep and vivid. A thousand shades of the one colour overlapping and washing in a mixture that could hynotise anyone. The diminished narrowed his eyes. _"You don't even know what I've done,"_ he said, his voice hoarse.

"Gloss said you cheated on him."

The diminished smirked, as if this amused him. _"Sure, okay, let's go with that," _he said. _"There's a panel in the ceiling, isn't there? And an elevator shaft?"_

Cato frowned, surprised. "How did you know that?" he asked in amazement.

_"I'm not the easiest to knock out."_

"And you're pointing it out because . . . ?"

_"I bet you that I could get out of here if you opened the panel."_

Cato snorted. Cocky little shit. Was he crazy? He wouldn't be able to get up the shaft without the elevator. There was no harm in humouring him. Cato pressed the button to open the panel. At least he'd get a show, watching the kid try to squirm his way out. "Go ahead," he said. "Humour me."

The boy grinned. Cato blinked, had his eyes just slitted? _"I intend to."_

That's when something incredible happened.

_"Palladium chains,"_ the boy murmured to himself, _"piece of cake." _The diminished boy stepped on the chain and wound his finger around it. A sharp claw suddenly popped out and sliced through the metal. Cato's mouth dropped open in surprise. What the heck was that?

Maybe this had been a bad idea.

Cato reached out to close the panel again but it was too late. The diminished boy was already there, gone from the room and clawing his way up the shaft. The least Cato could do now was keep it open in case he fell.

"Finnick!" he yelled, running down the stairs to the reception again. "Get Gloss on the phone, now!"

"Why?" Finnick asked, looking startled.

"The kid got out of Chamber, I need to talk to him before he reaches the elevator."

"He got _out_?!"

"Yes!"

"Shit." Finnick ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed the phone, passing it to Cato quickly. "The number is on speed dial."

Cato nodded and quickly rang Gloss. It rung a couple of times before he answered, which was irritatingly annoying. "Gloss Higgs, what the fuck have you dumped into my Institute?!"

Gloss laughed on the other end. _"Didn't take him long to scare you, did it?"_

"He doesn't scare me, I just need to know what the fuck I'm up against!" exclaimed Cato. Of course he wasn't scared. He wasn't scared of anyone.

_"Well, the kid _was_ my partner but he was kidnapped some time about three years ago and was experimented on to the point where he became a neko," _Gloss explained. _"I thought I could live with it but it turns out that I can't. So the 10, 000 is still on offer if you're able to tame him."_

"Tame him?" Okay, that sounded feesible. "But what is a neko?"

A loud scraping sound was coming through downstairs. Cato and Finnick exchanged a look. Gloss took pleasure in explaining it to them. Cato quickly stuck it on speaker so Finnick could hear as well. _"He's basically a cat."_

"A cat?" they both said at the same time.

_"Half human, half cat. I can't get any more basic like that."_

"How do you tame a cat? Throw water at it?" Finnick asked. Cato glared, not apprecitating the sarcasm.

_"You're telling me that you don't have a collar and leash in your mighty Institute?"_ asked Gloss.

Cato looked at Finnick, eyes wide. Of course! How could he not have seen that? "Get as many of our leashes as you can carry," he said. Finnick nodded and left the room, coming back moments later with his arms full of leashes. This was ridiculous. They were moving with the urgency of a murderer about to claw its way out of the dirt and massacre them. This was a _catboy._

"Keep talking to him, we're not finished," Cato told Finnick. He went downstairs again to where the elevator to the Chamber was installed. Harsh breathing was on the other side, along with the tiny scraping of what sounded like claws against metal. Everything had changed now that he knew the kid was a cat. Of course he was going to be able to get up the elevator shaft.

Bracing himself, Cato pressed the button that opened the elevator doors. The diminished boy was crouched like cat, eyes sharp as knives. This . . . urm . . . _cat _was worth 10,000 dollars a week. Cato wasn't going to let that sort of money slip between his fingers.

"Okay, so I hadn't expected you to get up so fast," Cato said. "But Gloss told me why you're really here."

"The asshole thinks he's allergic to cats," the boy responded, his voice an angry purr. He seemed to be in full defence mode, back arched and claws digging into the floor.

"Well, I'm certainly not and I said I'd tame you for him," Cato explained.

The diminished laughed. "I don't think so," he said.

Deciding that they were going to get nowhere with this, Cato sighed and broke his own rule. "What's your name?"

The boy smiled, his lip curling back a little to reveal a set of fangs. "Peeta." The name wasn't a name. It was a purr in itself. _Peeetta._

"Is it me thinking wishfully to hope that you'll be a good neko and let me put this collar and leash around you?" Cato asked.

"Gloss couldn't get me in one, you're won't either," Peeta replied.

Cato rolled his eyes. Why do they always have to be difficult. Sighing heavily, he unclipped the leash and snapped it like a whip so that it wrapped around the neko's wrist. He had done this plenty of times before, especially with difficult diminished. Peeta barely had a chance to register that the leash was around his wrist before Cato had yanked it so his hand went out from under him.

Peeta yelped as he faceplanted the floor. His back was still curved and his backside stuck out. Cato wondered as he pulled another leash out of his back pocket if nekos had tails . . . Putting both leashes into one hand he took out the collar Finnick gave him. "Come on," he teased, "it's red. It'll bring out your eyes."

Peeta scowled and hissed at him. Cato raised his eyebrows in bemusement. He clipped the collar around the reluctant captive's neck and attached another leash. "Now be a good cat and follow me to the reception."

Stubborn as a mule, Peeta sat up and folded his arms defiantly. "No," he said. "And I'm not a cat."

"Oh for God's sake." Cato held all three leashes in one hand and started dragging Peeta along the floor. Luckily, the halls weren't carpeted and he could drag the boy easily. Once they reached it, Finnick was rolling his eyes as he nodded along to whatever Gloss was saying to him. Cato took it back and said, "You want to say something to Gloss?" to Peeta.

Peeta hissed through his teeth. "No."

"Suit yourself." He pressed the button to put the phone back on speaker. "We've got him."

_"You managed to get the leash on him?"_ Gloss sounded amazed.

"Don't sound so surprised, you'd be shocked at the sort of things I can do," replied Cato. Peeta scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. Finnick leaned over the reception to peer at the captive in awe. "But you haven't really told us why you want him tamed."

_"He scratched my mother's eyes out," _answered Gloss.

Cato's eyes widened and all the colour drained from Finnick's face. They both stared at Peeta, unable to believe that such a fragile looking creature could case such damage. The blond boy just pulled a face. "Bitch deserved it," he muttered.

"Finnick has a point, what do you want us to do, throw water at him?" Cato asked.

"I don't appreciate the stereotyping," Peeta snapped.

_"Aren't you supposed to be the expert?" _asked Gloss.

"For humans, yeah. Not cat people."

Peeta rolled his eyes and stood up, hands still out in front of him because of the leashes and collar hanging loosely around his neck. "I'm not a cat person, they're furry all over and can't get rid of their whiskers," he sighed, sounding clearly irritated. "I'm a neko, learn the difference."

Cato tugged hard on the leash, ignoring the daggers Peeta threw his way. "Is he always this defiant?" he asked Gloss.

_"Always." _You could practically hear the amusement dripping in his tone. _"On some level I miss it."_

"Should have thought of that before you brought me here you asshole!" Peeta shouted angrily at the phone. "If I ever see you again so help me god I'll shove my claws so far up your ass it'll rip you in half!"

_"Oh, I forgot to mention, he's kinky as well."_

"Oh fuck off!" Peeta yelled. He looked at Cato angrily. "Do you really have to have him on the phone?"

"It's cleary annoying you, so yeah," answered Cato.

_"If you really want to annoy him, scratch the spot between his ears, it turns him into a little pussy cat."_

"No it doesn't!" exclaimed Peeta, lifting his bound hands to cover two spots on the side of his hair. Curious, Cato yanked the leash again so the neko boy stumbled forward, grabbing a handful of his hair and smacking his hands away. Stubborn as ever, Peeta hissed and scratched at him, ripping open thin cuts along his arms and waist.

"Finnick, don't just stand there, hold his hands out of the way," Cato snapped.

As if prodded by an electric pole, Finnick jumped to life and grabbed the leashs that were tied around Peeta's hands, pulling it so his hands were tugged away from his body. Cato then brushed the strands of silky golden hair out of the way and revealing two furry cat ears. They twitched a little, reacting to the sudden exposure.

"Wow," Cato breathed. It should have been a bizarre sight but, really, it was pretty cute actually. He gently ran his knuckles down one ear, unable to help smiling when it twitched again in response.

"Stop it, they're sensitive!" Peeta protested, trying to pull his head away. Taking Gloss' advice, Cato gently dragged his nails through the space between both ears, scratching the area lightly. He was surprised when Peeta purred and trembled a little in what looked like pleasure.

_"Want the same reaction only better, stroke his tail. He also doesn't like being treated like a cat and will probably scratch you to death if you try. He also hates being spanked so I'd greatly suggest that as well. Good luck with him, you're gonna need it."_ With that, Gloss hung up.

Gathering his strength, Peeta yanked his head away from Cato. His eyes were narrowed, his eyebrows drew together. "Touch my tail and I will not be held responsible for your death," he warned.

Finnick-who was more a receptionist at heart than a punisher-handed the hand leashes back to Cato, who was suddenly very interested in finding out more about the impossible boy in front of him. "Come Mittens, we've got things to do," he said, tugging the leashes after him as he started to leave.

"Don't call me that," Peeta replied, obediently following for once.

"Whatever you say, Mittens."

~xXx~

"So . . . you're a cat."

"I'm a neko."

"Which is basically a cat."

"No, it's a neko."

"Which is a _cat_."

"I'm not a goddamn cat!"

Cato observed the obstinate blond with a tilted head. It took an hour to get him tied to the chair which proceeded to further half an hour getting him _retied_ once he ripped the ropes open with his claws. The blue eyes watched his every movement, the struggle having unsettled his hair to expose the silky sensitive ears. It was obvious Peeta was uncomfortable with them being so vulnerable, jerking his head every so often in a feeble attempt to hide them again.

"Your body says otherwise," Cato pointed out, gesturing at Peeta's ears. He was tempted to hold a red ball on a piece of string above Peeta's head, just as an experiment to see if he'd try to grab it.

"I say again, I'm a neko, not a cat." Peeta was speaking slowly now, as if Cato was a toddler who couldn't grasp what he was telling him.

"Okay then 'neko', why did you scratch Gloss' mother's eyes out?" asked Cato.

"She stepped on my tail."

"And you didn't like that?"

"She did it on purpose."

Cato paused. "What do you mean 'on purpose'?"

"Exactly that, on purpose," answered Peeta. He sat back and scowled. "To them I was nothing but a pet."

"Aren't you?"

"I was a human once, you know! Just because I get kidnapped and tortured as an experiment you think you can treat me like an alien? I didn't ask for it!" His eyes darkened and he glared at Cato. "And you're just like them. Hadley Institute for Pain and Reprimand is just a fancy title for torture house!"

"A job is a job," Cato said slowly.

Peeta rolled his eyes. "A job's a job," he repeated. He shifted a little, uncomfortable. "Do me a favour and untie me, please. I'm sitting on my tail and it's extremely annoying."

"You've got to be kidding. Why would I untie you?" asked Cato.

"Because you're completely rotten," Peeta said. "You haven't done half the things Gloss has told you to and it's been two hours since we spoke." His eyes had a hopeful gleam to them. "You don't want to hurt me."

Cato actually didn't want to hurt him, which didn't make sense since he had spent seven years hurting people. What made Peeta any different? But he couldn't let him walk either. 10, 000 a week wasn't an offer he could take lightly. "Work for me," he blurted out.

Peeta, who had been in the middle of arching his back in a tired stretch, paused. "What?" he asked.

"Work for me. Gloss has a lot of money riding on you so I'm not letting you leave but if you work for me then you won't have to be tortured," Cato explained. "It's good pay, trust me."

"You mean you want me to hurt people?" said Peeta.

"Not necessarily, you could work the reception with Finnick."

"And I wouldn't be tortured?"

"Nope."

Peeta nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. But not for your sake, for my own." He squirmed again. "Now please untie me or I'm going to be walking weird all week." Cato untied him, unsure about why he was doing this, unsure about whether Peeta would be able to work properly, unsure about why he was being so crazy by letting him go.

The young blond stood up and stretched, his back arching gracefully. Cato suddenly had a weird thought about whether Peeta's back did that when he was having sex with someone or not . . . Shaking his head, he dismissed it.

"Do you mind if I let the tail out? Of course you don't," Peeta questioned and answered. He let out a satisifed purr as his tail uncurled itself from the top of his pants. It was long and silky, and Cato had to bite down on the urge to reach out and stroke it like Gloss said. Not for torture reasons, just to feel the fur against his skin.

"So," Cato said as they left the interrogation room, "do you eat kibble or tuna?"

"I won't think twice about smacking you."

Cato laughed and watched Peeta as he slinked back to the reception desk and started talking to Finnick, who's eyes immediately widened at the sight of the tail. Something told him that he had made the right decision.

Who doesn't like cats anyway?

Wait, not cats . . .

Nekos?

_**A/N: So let me know what you think! The synopsis' for the first four books is on my profile if you're curious about how the series is going to proceed! :D**_

_**Please R&amp;R, I'd love to know what you think of my neko!Peeta since it's my first time writing him :)**_


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